10/9/11 Somber rests the train of thought That passes through my head. In distance’s clutch I’ve reclined; Object permanence spanning only To the borders of this drab city. Yet now arrives news of daisies Shriveled and seized beneath the Gaining weight of self-destruction. Rolled and blown beyond a whim, Time tallies our habits against us. A gross relief grows at luck's tricksy Scheming and gratitude pushes heavy On the last few years of separation.
